Page 7 of Send It
She laughs. “That’s funny, considering you always want to argue with me.”
I turn to her and smile, “My favorite past-time.”
She groans and crams her airpods in her ears, no doubt trying to block me out.
We pull into the parking lot of the orthopedic doctor’s office and she wastes no time getting out and headinginside, but if she thinks I’m just gonna sit out here she’s crazy.
I follow behind her and laugh when the receptionist sees her, “Oh no, Lincoln. I’m never happy to see you here.”
She sighs, “I’m fine, everyone is just overreacting.”
Raising a brow, she responds, “Let’s let Dr. Marlow be the judge of that, heh?”
“Good idea, Nikki. Good to see you.” I charm, sliding in.
“Colson! I haven’t seen you since last summer, how have you been? How’s the leg?”
“Like I never broke it. Besides, all the screws and plates attract the ladies.”
She giggles, and Lincoln rolls her dark eyes at me.
“If you keep rolling your eyes like that they’re gonna get stuck.”
She doesn’t even humor me, and takes a seat. After a few minutes, the nurse appears.
“Lincoln Bane,” she calls. “Good to see you, follow me.”
We make it to a room and the nurse takes Lincoln back for an x-ray, before Dr. Marlow comes in. Meanwhile, I sit in the room and wait.
I haven’t been here since I broke my leg last year. It was an entire season of no riding. It fucking sucked.
The surgery sucked, the rehab sucked. It all sucked.
Lincoln comes back into the room and we wait in complete awkward silence until Dr. Marlow finally comes in.
“Good news, Linc. It’s just a nasty bruise.”
“Told you,” she spits in my direction. “It’sjusta bruise.”
Dr. Marlow can sense the tension in the room. “You need to rest, no training for two weeks.”
She gasps, “What!”
“Good call, Doc.” I smile, ready to drag Lincoln out of the room before she gets hateful with the best ortho doctor in the city. If something does happen to her in the future, we don’t need him refusing to treat her because she hit him.
She starts to argue but I basically drag her out of the room before she gets the chance.
Dr. Marlow shouts in our direction, “Lincoln, tell your dad I said hi!”
Which makes her even more angry. She gets back in my truck and slams the door even harder than she did earlier.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” she spits. “I need to be on the track.”
I shake my head, “You need to give it a rest.”
“Easy for you to say, asshat.”
She turns and grabs her seatbelt, yanking it so hard it locks and won’t pull out. She yanks it again even harder and it locks again.
